“What have I done? Tell me!”
Tom Gaunt smiled; his little, gray eyes met Derek's full.
“'Tisn't for a gentleman to be held responsible.”
“Come!” Derek cried passionately. “What is it? D'you think I deserted you, or what? Speak out, man!”
Abating nothing of his stare and drawl, Gaunt answered:
“Deserted? Oh, dear no! Us can't afford to do no more dyin' for you—that's all!”
“For me! Dying! My God! D'you think I wouldn't have—? Oh! Confound you!”
“Aye! Confounded us you 'ave! Hope you're satisfied!”
Pale as death and quivering all over, Derek answered:
“So you think I've just been frying fish of my own?”